Panic
by Carcino Catnip
Summary: All of them are monsters, including myself. Character death, slight necrophilia, one-sided relationship. I don't know what I'm doing with the genre...


**Pairing: One-sided USUK. **

**Side Pairings: None.**

**Rating: T.**

**Anorexia, insomnia and schizophrenia.**

**I may not be able to portray the anorexia as well, I haven't had enough experience with that myself. But I've asked someone who actually has it and have done some research, so I think I sort of got it.**

**But Alfred does not hate his body all at much, he just hates eating. Anorexia is the general loss of appetite or interest in food. Anorexia Nervosa is when people have not lost their appetite, they have ****_deliberately restricted their food intake because of an irrational fear of gaining w_****_eight._** **There is a difference.**

**As for the insomnia, I have got that down.**

**The schizophrenia is easy. At least I think so. I made up a reason for him to be such a fearful person, and it kind of fell under the category of a schizophrenic, so yeah.**

**And there's attempt murder. Yay.**

**Also, character death. Some necrophilia kinda thing.**

**This is purposely a bit vague at the beginning.**

**ShitImmadoArthurhorribly.**

**On with the story, I suppose.**

* * *

**General information. It's nothing.**

* * *

_Alfred F. Jones._

_Age: 15, almost 16._

_Gender: Male._

_Hair colour: Dirty blonde._

_Eye colour: Blue._

_Room: 50S_

_Disorder(s)? Insomnia.._

_Status? Pretty calm as of now, but he still won't sleep._

* * *

**Next year's papers. New disorder.**

* * *

_Alfred F. Jones._

_Age: 16._

_Gender: Male._

_Hair colour: A... duller shade of dirty blonde._

_Eye colour: Grey-ish blue._

_Room: 50S._

_Disorder(s)? Anorexia, Insomnia._

_Status? He's getting worse. He won't sleep and he won't eat now. We tried making him take pills, but he did it again... He made those nasty, deafening screams again..._

* * *

**What monsters?**

* * *

_Alfred F. Jones._

_Age: 17_

_Gender: Male._

_Hair colour: Blonde._

_Eye colour: They used to be blue. But they just keep getting duller._

_Room: 50S, soon to be CC - 80S(?)_

_Disorder(s)? Anorexia, Insomnia, possible case of schizophrenia._

_Status? He won't talk to anyone. He screams whenever someone tries to touch him. He always sneaks out of his room when it's lunchtime, and if we bring him back to his room by force, he screeches his lungs out until we put something over his mouth._

_Even then. __It's horrible to watch._

_When he starts twitching so violently. He wants to scream so much. He claws at his arms, like he's trying to tear his skin off._

_How can he do that when he's so weak?_

_We're moving him to CC (Critical Condition) 80S. I think that it's necessary, he's scaring everyone._

* * *

**Resort to Critical Condition.**

* * *

Alfred laid somewhat calmly on his bed, looking up at the cieling with a bored expression. He was so used to this by now.

Those monsters that always haunted his mind, day or night.

But he was still terrified.

He wanted them to go away.

_Where's the inventory bar when you need it?_

* * *

**The first meeting didn't go so well.**

* * *

Arthur Kirkland's mint-green gel pen tapped on his clipboard as he walked through the seemingly endless hallways of the hospital, distracted by his own thoughts. He was due to see a kid named Alfred today...

He wasn't new here. He was twenty-four and has been working at this hospital for a year, he's gotten used to it and was familiar with most patients.

But, really, he had never seen an Alfred...

By the time he had started working as a doctor, here, Alfred was a CC patient.

He had a few hours, he thought, shrugging. He could possibly slack off a bit, he had nothing else to do... But maybe he'd have a quick peek at Alfred's general papers.

Jones. 18 and a half. Anorexia, Insomnia and Schizophrenia. Screaming? CC patient. That was all the information Arthur took in by scanning over the papers. His eyes showed some interest.

Is this kid to be connected with that.. Screamer? As other patients called him. He supposed not many of them knew his name, but why call him that? He's screamed before, who the hell cares? Isn't that common in a mental hospital?

He rolled his eyes and looked at his watch, quickly, before looking away from it. 10:44. His emerald greens widened. He'd been due to see Alfred ten minutes ago. He wasn't early, he was late.

* * *

Alfred seemed somewhat pleased.

No doctor today. He hated the doctors.

Not as much as he hated the nurses. The nurses were scary...

But, anyway, he was just pleased that he wouldn't have to see anyone. And he would be able to immerse himself in his own little fantasy world, filled with all his worse fears and no way of escaping them.

How fun.

His dull, blue eyes had obvious bags under them by now. They scanned the room he was in. It was so plain. Like Slender. With his simple suit and featureless face.

Alfred shuddered. He hated Slender.

He thought of some of the patients he's seen... He pictured them as zombies.

He hated zombies, too.

The nurses, he thought were too disgusting to describe.

He hasn't played that video game yet.

He never will.

But maybe he's seen what they could be in a TV show..

* * *

Arthur became somewhat lost in his rush. 10:53 now. Almost ten minutes have passed. More than twenty minutes late. That won't look very good.. Not that anyone really has to know, unless they ask of course.

No one will ask, right?

The Brit found his was to the CC section, on the last floor.

_80P, 80Q, 80R.._

80S!

He gave a small smile and slowly turned the doorknob, as if not to startle this... Alfred. He knew that patients in CC were particularly bad and needed more caution.

* * *

Alfred's head turned to the door, and he felt his mood go sour when he saw Arthur coming in. He had a white coat. That meant he was a doctor.

A very late doctor, but a doctor all the same.

What was he?

He's not a human...

He can't be.

They never are.

They're all _monsters._

In some video game or another.

Alfred glared, avoiding any eye contact with Arthur. There were only five minutes left that he had to put up with him.. If he screamed his way out...

Arthur almost felt nervous. He didn't really know how to go about with this patient. He supposed he could start with an introduction. "Uh, hello, lad? I'm Doctor Kirkland, but-" He instantly stopped as an ear-splitting screech reached his ears.

Alfred screamed, a pitched scream that didn't seem like it could come out of his mouth. Some sort of screech made by something just inhuman. That horrifying shriek no one in their right mind would want to hear.

Arthur stared for a good moment, not knowing what to do. He was given syringe in case this happened. He really didn't want to use it.

* * *

**What did you just say?!**

* * *

A few weeks after this incident, after Arthur did end up injecting a sort of liquid in his arm that made him drop almost instantly, Arthur was regretting he ever took on this patient. Those screams were bloody murder to his ears.

But at the same time, the challenge was nice.

And plus, it seemed Alfred was warming up to him in some way or another.

"Guess he realised I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Alfred had gotten used to seeing Arthur. He didn't like it. He never liked people. They were all monsters.

But... Maybe Arthur wasn't a monster.

Maybe not everyone could be a monster.

And... Maybe.

Just maybe...

He would surprise Arthur.

* * *

"Hello, Alfred.." Arthur murmured as he closed the door behind him, taking a clipboard with a few papers under the clasp from a shelf near the door. He didn't expect a response, Alfred never talked to him anyway.

"Hey, Arthur."

The Briton's eyes quickly darted around at hearing a sort of soft, weak voice. He didn't see anyone in the room with them, the only person who could've said that was...

"Alfred, did you just speak?"

Alfred just gave a nod in response, looking down at his lap, covered by his sheets and playing with his fingers some.

"I want to talk to you. Tell you where this all actually started."

Arthur was absolutely ecstatic. Alfred was one of his most difficult patients, he's never had anyone as complicated as him. No one's ever gotten him to speak, but look at him! He grinned widely, nodding and taking a seat near Alfred's bed, where he usually sat when he had these sort of... meetings with him.

"Fantastic, absolutely brilliant! You can tell me anything, lad. Now go on." Arthur put down the clipboard. He wasn't going to take any notes. That would make it seem like he was studying Alfred instead of trying to help him.

* * *

**The base of all this.**

* * *

Arthur had a better understanding of Alfred's problem now. He never heard Alfred talk so much, it was pleasant to hear his voice, even.

He felt warm inside, knowing he was the only person to know fully about his problem.

Of all people in the world, Alfred told him about his problems. Everything about them. They even held up a nice, steady, normal conversation.

"What progress... Hm, of course I could do it. I don't know why I'm so surprised, and it's not like I'm happy he told me or anything." Arthur rolled his eyes, completely convinced he didn't feel happy about it at all.

But really, he wasn't convinced. He was positively, genuinely, one hundred percent _happy _that the American shared so much with him. He won't admit it though, not even to himself.

That's just the type of person he was. And he wasn't going to get attached to a bloody _lunatic._

Arthur almost regretted thinking that. Almost. Because Alfred really was nuts. His expression darkened slightly as he remembered what else happened the day Alfred told him about his problem.

* * *

_**What happened.**_

* * *

_Alfred gave a little nod. "Well, the cause of all this is..." He trailed off, then mumbled something under his breath. _

_"What was that, Alfred? I didn't catch that." _

_"... Video games." He said, a little more loudly that time so Arthur could hear. He brought his knees up, hugging them to his chest and pressing his back against a pillow._

_Arthur gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. "Alfred, you know you can tell me-"_

_"Video games! It's video games! Now, ... let me talk." Alfred said, glaring at Arthur. _

_Arthur was taken aback, almost. He'd never received his sort of behaviour from Alfred. _

_Alfred nodded, looking satisfied and put his arms down at his sides. "So..." A beeping noise sounded. _

_"Ah, Alfred.. I have to go now. Mind if I listen tomorrow?" Arthur mumbled, looking at his pager. He glanced at Alfred, almost sheepishly and picked up his clipboard again, standing up. _

_Alfred narrowed his eyes at Arthur's back as he headed for the door. He didn't want to wait. He wanted to say it now. He got up, shaking a little after not standing for awhile. He was barely allowed to go out. _

_Next thing, Arthur felt a pair of arms over his shoulders. He smiled a little. "Alfred... Wait, Alfred? What are you doing?!" _

_A pair of hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him back. Fingers took hold around his neck and nails dug into his skin. Alfred let out those ear-splitting screams, right in his ear as he clawed at Arthur's neck. _

_Arthur's eyes widened, quickly bringing a hand up to his neck to look for his panic button, which should've been on a chord, acting as a necklace. He didn't bring it with him to see Alfred. _

_"I TOLD YOU TO LET ME TALK!" Alfred screeched, feeling tears run down his face, as he gripped as hard as he could around Arthur's neck with his bony hands. _

_Arthur, somehow, got out an "Okay!", and Alfred calmed down. Just some, at least enough not to try and kill him. _

* * *

Arthur sighed as he remembered that, putting his head down on his desk. He put a hand up to touch his neck, still with marks from Alfred's fingernails. He'll need to inform the nurses to cut them or something.

He noted that little episode. He understood why he was diagnosed as a schizophrenic. The inappropriate actions. Faulty perception. And, the overall reason he had these problems.

* * *

_Alfred sat back down on his bed, tears dried on his face, and staring Arthur down as if he expected him to run away at any moment. _

_Arthur really did want to do that. _

_"Hm... okay, so... Video games. Horror video games. I loved them, so much. I played them almost everyday. Actually, I did play them everyday. But.. Some point, I started having a lot of nightmares about them. Every night. I didn't want to sleep anymore, so I stayed awake. I started picturing people as monsters. I couldn't tell what was real or fake anymore. That was the start of my insomnia and schizophrenia. Then, I couldn't even eat because I was scared of food. It always turned into something else. Sometimes worms, human intestines, bloody eyeballs, ripped up hearts... It was so disgusting." _

_The Brit crossed his legs and leaned back on his chair, listening intently, his brows furrowing some in concentration. "Yes, yes... Go on." _

_Alfred nodded. "Well, it started getting worse. I never came out of my room, and I still kept playing video games. I know that wasn't the smartest... thing..." He closed his eyes, leaning back a little. He made a face as if he wanted to open his eyes, "But..." _

_"Alfred, just don't think about the nightmares. Think more about nice things before you go to sleep. Try not to let your nightmares take control." Arthur said, but even he was unsure of what he was saying. _

_"I couldn't stop... And the nurses," Alfred kept on going, "They're horrible. So horrible. I can't describe what they are, they come from an uninvented game. Maybe even like oods. Act like they're ready to help but then turn on you in a second... The patients are all like zombies.. or Ellen. Scary looking and useless. The doctors are..." He drifted off, quieting himself as he fell into a light doze. _

_Arthur almost looked sorry. He couldn't help but feel bad for the boy. He was thinking so much about his fears before he fell asleep. He shook his head, getting up and just taking his leave. _

* * *

Not being able to decipher real from fake. The withdrawl from reality to a whole world of delusion.

Arthur just let out another sigh.

* * *

**Silent again.**

* * *

Alfred didn't talk the next time Arthur went to see him. Nor did he talk the next. He went through weeks of silence, but you could clearly hear screams from time to time. It seemed as if Alfred was back to his old, panicked self.

Arthur didn't bother to visit him today. It was mandatory, apparently, but he just didn't care. He was getting fed up with Alfred. He was fucking annoying sometimes.

He sighed and pushed his chair back, putting his feet on his desk. Arthur blinked when he heard a noise, and looked up to see his door was open. He raised an eyebrow, not seeing anyone there.

He got up, cautiously walking to the door to go close it. Only being cautious because he didn't know if one of the patients got out of their rooms or anything, even though that was most unlikely.

* * *

**Before then. **

* * *

An hour late. He didn't know why Arthur didn't come. He was upset. He felt betrayed, hurt, and a whole swarm of negative emotions.

He took things too far, he knew.

But that didn't mean he made any effort to resist.

He looked around in his room, looking for something, anything that would get the job done. He had no luck.

He sneaked out of his room, walking around carefully, and glad to see that the hallways were pretty much cleared. It was time for patients to nap, so that's probably why it was so empty.

He found the kitchen.

In the kitchen, he found a drawer.

In that drawer, he found a knife.

A nice, sharp knife.

"Perfect..." He mumbled, a grin slowly spreading across his face. He would make sure he wasn't hurt again.

He would make sure he wasn't hurt by the person he loved.

* * *

**You can't be hurt by what's not alive.**

* * *

Alfred stood, his back pressed against the wall, waiting for Arthur to get close enough..

"Hello?" Arthur looked out the doorway, looking to his right, blinking. He looked to his left, just to be met by Alfred's face. "Uhm... Alfred, you shouldn't be out." He looked worried. "You really shouldn't be out."

Alfred gave him a crooked smile, "I love you, Arthur. I'm doing the best for the both of us."

Arthur looked confused, taken aback by the sudden confession, and opening his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a groan when he felt something horribly sharp pierce clean into his side. He felt warmth and intense pain.

Alfred pulled the knife out of Arthur's side, still smiling and pushing Arthur farther inside the office. He closed the door behind them and looked at the knife, messily stained with red.

"Alfred, stop this right now!" Arthur said sternly, trying to back away and grab his panic button. He really needed to remember to put that around his neck, not that it would matter in a few moments.

"It's for the best, Artie..." Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur. He struggled, trying to get away from this sad, insane excuse for a human being. But he quickly stopped his struggle as he felt the knife pierce through his flesh again, almost in the same spot. It tore him, right above the last cut, so it all looked like one messy gash.

Alfred twisted the knife, getting a cry of pain from Arthur in return. It hurt so much that he couldn't even think straight.

Why couldn't Alfred just finish him off already?

Arthur stood perfectly still, biting down hard on his lip as he put his arm behind him, finding the chord, attatched to his panic button. He pressed down on it, Alfred didn't seem to notice.

The button let out a beep sound.

At that, Alfred looked up.

"Alfred, please-" Arthur was cut off.

"You didn't come today, Artie." He took on a sad expression as he pulled the knife out his side, then plunged it straight through Arthur's neck.

* * *

**Blame schizophrenia.**

* * *

Arthur Kirkland was found, dead, sitting on an office chair with 19 year old Alfred Jones in his lap, the latter asleep.

Below his gash, a half heart was cut into Kirkland's side.

Found in practically the same place, a half of a heart, -compatible to Arthur's half-, was cut into Alfred F. Jones' side.

One of Kirkland's eyes were missing.

* * *

**Happily ever after.**

* * *

And so, Alfred spent the rest of his life, carrying the burden of murdering the one he loved. All he had to remember him by was an eye. A very badly cut out eye.

* * *

**SEE HAPPIEST THING EVER. **

**JOLLY GOOD EFFIN ENDING. **

**Yeah I really need to make that alternative ending soon.**

**I can't believe this is my first USUK fic. **

**/reasons why I'm a horrible USUK fan.**


End file.
